


Drifting, Falling, Floating Weightless

by MagicaDraconia16



Series: 2020 Bingos [22]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), F/M, Gen, Mentions of Panic Attacks, Nightmares, Outer Space, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Tony Stark Flash Bingo, Tony Stark Has Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26729800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicaDraconia16/pseuds/MagicaDraconia16
Summary: After the Battle of New York, Tony was plagued by nightmares of space. The events of the immediate aftermath of the Infinity War have not made things better.
Relationships: Nebula & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Series: 2020 Bingos [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1634290
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24
Collections: Tony Stark Flash Bingo





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Major Tom (Coming Home)" by Peter Schilling, from the Umbrella Academy S2 soundtrack. 
> 
> Written for the **Tony Stark September Flash Bingo**  
>  Chapter 1 - _adopted prompt - Image: Drift_  
> 
> 
> Chapter 2 - _Nightmares_
> 
> Square Filled: 027 - Image: Drift (adopted - ch1) | Nightmares (ch2)  
> Ship/Main Pairing: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark  
> Rating: T  
> Major Tags: Angst, nightmares, post Infinity War, during Endgame, mentions of panic attacks  
> Summary: After the Battle of New York, Tony was plagued by nightmares of space. The events of the immediate aftermath of the Infinity War have not made things better.

There was some cosmic asshole that loved to fuck with his life, and then sat back to laugh about it.

It had been one of the biggest headlines after the Battle of New York (straight after the ‘New York Attacked by Aliens – No, Really’) – _Iron Man Tony Stark Sends Nuclear Missile Through Alien Wormhole_. The glimpse he’d gotten of the other side of that portal had given him nightmares for _months_ afterwards, and the odd one still crept up on him now and then.

It was just… He’d _seen_ just how many ships were waiting on the other side, and he’d seen just how little the missile had taken out in comparison. It hadn’t been nearly enough, although it had killed all the Chitauri who’d made it through to New York.

But they hadn’t been the instigator. Tony had _known_ that there was something bigger and even worse out there, and it had been coming directly for them. He had _known_ that they desperately needed something to help protect the Earth, because six people – even _super_ people – just weren’t going to cut it.

But nobody had listened.

And now, here Tony was – floating through space, yet again.

He and the blue cyborg, who’d introduced herself as Nebula, were the only two left on Titan after everyone else with them had turned to dust and blown away. Thanos’ ship had been destroyed when he and— and… _the kid_ had landed it. The ship that Nebula had arrived in had been a tiny, one-person pod, and it had been pretty much squashed like a pancake when Thanos had thrown a moon at them.

This left them with the ship that belonged to the jackass that had cost them their chance at stopping all of this. Nebula called it the _Benatar_ , but Tony didn’t care _what_ it was called, as long as she knew how to fly it back to Earth.

Her piloting skills were sadly useless when the fuel ran out, just two days after they’d left Titan behind. And with no inhabited planets anywhere close enough in range to pick up a signal – if there was even anyone there _to_ pick up a signal, if they hadn’t all turned to dust – then they couldn’t even call for the outer space equivalent of a tow truck.

And so… they drifted.

If he’d seen this before 2012, before he’d diverted a nuclear missile through an alien portal towards an alien army, he might have been thrilled at being out here among the stars, despite the knowledge of their impending death.

But now, all it made him feel was sheer, raving _terror_. He spent a lot of time with his back to the enormous front windshield, and an equal amount of time blasting out the horrible, cheesy ‘80s music that Quill – the jackass – had left behind. (Honestly, no wonder he was a jackass; he had the _worst_ taste in music that Tony’d ever heard, and he’d spent many an hour listening to Ste— _Rogers_ wax rhapsodic about the music of his youth.)

But… even cheesy pop was better than the yawning, aching silence that descended whenever it was switched off. Nebula wasn’t much of a conversationalist.

Almost a week after they ran out of fuel – eight days since one of the best people Tony knows turned to dust and slipped through his fingers – Tony had made himself a cosy little nest in an alcove just behind the main cockpit. It was very likely, he knew, that this would be his last resting place.

Their water had run out three days prior; food the day before that, aside from a few leftover crumbs; by tomorrow morning, their oxygen supply would finally run out. Nebula would probably last a while longer – it was a little difficult to tell just how much of a cyborg her systems actually were – but Tony wouldn’t last out the day.

He would suffocate, out here in space. Cold and alone.

Again.

It was probably foolish to use up so much of his precious oxygen on something that would likely never be heard anyway, but just on the off-chance, Tony wanted to record one last message to Pepper, to tell her that he loved her.

And he would dream of her as he died.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the movement that woke her up.

Blearily, Pepper Potts-Stark squinted at the alarm clock. A bright blue ‘2:55am’ blinked steadily back at her. The mattress shifted beneath her, and the sheet on top, and she finally realised what had woken her up.

Tony was having a nightmare again.

With a brief sigh, Pepper slid out from under the sheet and off the bed. She’d tried taking the sheet with her, once, and Tony had promptly plunged even deeper into his nightmare – or a different one. Cold didn’t just trigger bad memories for Steve Rogers, it seemed.

“Tony,” she called once she was a safe distance from the bed. “Tony, you’re having a nightmare. Wake up!”

Tony thrashed again, a low moan catching in the back of his throat. His hair was plastered to his head and his skin was much too pale.

“Tony!” Pepper yelled, louder now. “Wake up! You’re okay, everyone’s okay. You’re at the cabin.”

When that didn’t work, when he showed no signs of even registering her voice, Pepper turned to the closet for the baseball bat he’d left there for her.

She’d thought it strange when he first showed her, as any intruders who got that far into a place protected by Tony Stark were going to be more than she could use a baseball bat on. But instead, Tony had shaken his head and informed her that she should use it to prod him awake from nightmares when yelling wouldn’t work. It was, he had continued, too dangerous for her to try and shake him awake herself.

Pepper had opened her mouth to argue the ridiculousness of it – she was _not_ going to poke her husband awake with a _baseball bat_ , what the hell, Tony? – but then she’d remembered those days and weeks – and, honestly, months – after the Battle of New York, when Tony had had nightmare after nightmare, culminating in a night where she’d almost been attacked by the armour because he’d subconsciously called it to him after she’d tried to wake him.

She hadn’t, she remembered guiltily, been very understanding over the fright it had given her, and she’d stormed off to spend the rest of the night in one of the guest rooms. She’d threatened Tony with sleeping on the couch if he ever did it again.

Perhaps, she’d conceded, he did have a point.

Clutching the end of the bat in a white-knuckled grip, Pepper gingerly poked Tony in the arm. He jerked, but not awake. She prodded at him again and, when that didn’t work, she thumped the end of it against his shoulder.

Tony jolted awake with a shout of alarm, his eyes wide and frantic. He was breathing fast, much too fast, and was clutching desperately at his chest.

“Tony,” said Pepper calmly, watching him jerk again at the sound of her voice. He swung his head around, but his eyes weren’t focusing on anything, let alone her. “Tony, it’s okay,” she soothed, and dared to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching out a hand to brush over his bicep. “It’s okay, you’re safe, it’s just me.”

“Pep?” he wheezed. “Wha—? I was— food and water— no oxygen—”

Pepper winced. Yeah, that was his _new_ nightmare of subconscious choice. He’d been minutes, if not seconds, away from dying when Carol Danvers had stumbled across the dead ship he’d been stranded in and brought him – and Nebula, of course – home.

When the furore over his return had died down, Nebula had solemnly handed Pepper the helmet of the Iron Man suit. Remembering the previous message he’d sent through it, after the Mandarin had attacked the Malibu house, Pepper had spun the helmet in her hands thoughtfully for a moment. Given what Tony had just been rescued from, and in what state, she could guess at what his message likely said, and she wasn’t sure she could bear to hear it.

And she’d been right. But she’d done so anyway.

“You’re safe,” she informed Tony now, again. “You’re okay, you’re back on Earth. You’re alive, I’m alive. We’re at our cabin. You’re not in space anymore.”

Tony’s breath hitched, once, twice, and then he was sobbing. Pepper shuffled across the bed to him and pulled his head down to rest on her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she murmured softly into his hair. “You’re okay now, Tony. You’re safe.” She pressed a kiss to his temple. “I love you.”

And as she rocked him comfortingly, she wondered just how many nightmares one man could bear.

It was, she feared, too many. 


End file.
